Let it Sleep
by Sarah d'Emeraude
Summary: Daryl never really let himself be caught off guard. Which was why, the first time it happened, Paul didn't know what to do.


**Hello everyone!**

 **First of, I'm sorry I've been away for so long, but I've been working like crazy lately and I barely find time for myself.**

 **I'd like to thank transstevebucky (on AO3) for this little one, first because he corrected it and mainly because he had to deal with my numerous questions and my constant babbling, so yeah... he's a real angel. thanks again for everything and I'm sorry I'm such a pain in the ass!**

 **Anyway, I hope you'll like this!**

 **x**

* * *

The first time it happened, Paul didn't know what to do.

The thing was, Daryl Dixon was a mystery. He always had been, probably always would be, and Paul was at peace with that. To say that he wasn't dying to know everything about said mystery would be a lie, but Paul respected everyone's boundaries. Because he had lived in group homes, and he knew what it was like to have the little privacy he had left taken away from him. During the apocalypse, or whatever the kids called the dead resurrecting these days, privacy was overrated. It felt like everyone had seen everyone else naked, or doing things they'd rather forget. So Paul was not the kind of person to ask too many questions, or stare at someone until they felt uneasy.

Well, he did stare. At Daryl, to be precise.

But really, who could blame him? Daryl was… well. Paul would say a masterpiece, but he might have been biased. Daryl was a strong persona, capable of killing someone in cold blood and cuddle a baby with his other hand, giggle while playing with little Judith or stare at someone until they fled away from the room. Yes, Daryl Dixon truly was a mystery. But Paul was irrevocably, deeply, strongly in love with him.

So yes, he did stare.

He liked to stare at his bulging muscles, moving under the tight shirts he gave him when he permanently moved to hilltop. (Yes, he might have given him very tight shirts on purpose… but no, he wouldn't admit that to anybody -especially since Maggie already suspected something). He liked to look at Daryl when he was hunting, pretending not to be able to track a deer to spend more time with the hunter, the grumpy man accepting to give him a few hunting lessons. He loved to look at Daryl when the man wasn't even aware that he was around, when he was propped up against a tree and working on his arrows.

Daryl was… fascinating, to say the least. And Paul loved him even more every time he discovered something new about him.

Which was why, the first time it happened, Paul didn't know how to react.

They had been on a run together -because the ninja liked to go on runs with Daryl. The other man was grumpy as hell and often liked to insult him a little, too, but Paul had the feeling that Daryl liked them as a team as much as he did. After all, Daryl liked the calm, the quiet, and Paul was one of the few people at Hilltop able to give him that when they were going on runs together. Sometimes, they barely talked, communicating with glances and slight touches through the days and always understanding each other.

And after that two days run, a small, simple supply run that had them having way more fun that they were supposed to (who would have thought that they'd run into a fully naked walker?); they found themselves alone together again in Paul's trailer. Paul was laying down on the couch, because his feet hurt like hell (why was he jumping down from a roof, anyway? Well, yes, to impress the redneck looking at him like he had grown a second head each time he did), and Daryl was sharpening one of his knives in front of him. He was sitting cross-legged on the hard floor, arranged so that his back was comfortably pushed against the couch, and he was so close to the other man that Paul could smell the sweat, dirt and motor oil smeared on the redneck's skin.

Paul tried very hard to ignore how the scent aroused him (seriously, he needed to get it together) and kept staring at the open book in his hand. It was only when he realised that he had been reading the same sentence for the third time that he gave up, closing the book and getting ready to get up and put it back on the bookshelf with no further ado. It was only then that he realised that an unknown but yet not unwelcomed weight was pushing his left arm against the rusty fabric of the couch.

It was quite embarrassing for Paul to think back about how fast he had blushed like a schoolgirl talking to her first crush when it had hit him. Daryl's head was comfortably supported by his arm, and there was no way he could move without waking up the hunter for sure. Because Daryl was sound asleep, ass secured against the cold floor and back twisted in the weirdest way, arrow forgotten in his hand and bangs covering most of his face. Which was a shame. But Paul did not (absooolutely not) mourn the fact that he couldn't see his face. Absolutely not. And he did not have to resist the urge to push back his bangs with his free hand. Of course not.

In the end, Paul was not proud to admit that he fled away as soon as Daryl frowned in his sleep, moving around a little and releasing his stiff arm. He also ignored Daryl's unspoken questions when the hunter woke up, back aching and joints popping, surprised to find himself on the floor in the middle of the night.

After that, it all went back to normal for both men. At least for a while. They kept teasing each other, Daryl blushing like crazy when Paul made a sex joke in public, like he wasn't the one making the worst of them when they were by themselves; kept living together and going on runs. Living the life, as Paul would whisper to himself.

But then, it happened a second time.

Paul had felt like he had been living in a dream for the better part of the evening. First, Daryl had seen him wince when helping Maggie with her crops and had offered to give him a back rub, which resulted in Paul choking on his mouthful right there and then; wasting perfectly fresh and good water. Then, he had repressed several moans when Daryl had eased the knots around his spine, sighing with relief when he was done. Both because Daryl's hands were now far from his heated skin, and because he definitely felt better. And last, but not least, Daryl had fallen asleep on him. Again.

They were seated side by side on the couch, and if this scenario had occurred in another world, they would probably be watching some dumb television show. Daryl's left thigh and his left arm were brushing against Paul's right ones, and honestly, Paul felt like he had died and went to heaven. The skin of his back was still tingling from Daryl's touch, warm and still a little oily from the coconut oil the hunter had used, and they were standing side by side in the most utter and complete silence. Paul had closed his eyes, focusing on his breathing, and Daryl was reading a novel he had picked from Paul's selection. Yes, it was definitely heaven.

Paul was meditating for a little more than an hour when he realised that the weight on his side was heavier than it had been before, and he slowly opened his eyes to look at Daryl. The sight made his heart skip a beat and he bit back a soft sigh, puffing his chest to allow his heart to grow as much as it needed in this situation. Daryl had fallen asleep, face tucked against Paul's shoulder and the back of the couch and his soft breathing tickling his neck.

This time, even with the soft locks fallen in front of his eyes, Paul could see the man's face if he twisted his body a little bit. He looked beautiful, like this. Of course, Paul would argue that he looked beautiful even covered in blood, grease and walker remains. But this time, Paul's heart did several backflips and he had to take a deep, shaky breath before being able to calm himself.

He didn't know what to do. He knew that Daryl would most likely be embarrassed to be found sleeping and letting his guard down, but he also knew how bad the hunter slept. He was always the last one awake, and the first to get up. Paul often tried to lure him into getting more sleep, taking most of his tasks and trying to prevent anyone from asking too much of him -but it never worked.

So that was why he tried very, very hard not to wake Daryl up.

For a while, he just considered going back to meditating, but quickly found that he couldn't really focus on anything when Daryl was so intimately close to him. The heat coming from the other man's body was too much to bear, and his heart felt so full that he considered crying to relieve some of the pressure in his fluttering belly. For the first time in a while, he felt good, happy and fulfilled. And it felt so right.

Eventually, of course, Daryl woke up. His breath hitched, signaling that he was going to open his eyes soon, and for a couple of seconds Paul felt himself growing tense. Quickly and without thinking, he closed his eyes and forced himself to relax, pushing his body against the back of the couch and pretending to be long asleep just like his couch roommate. He never actually learned if Daryl had believed his act or not. The hunter just got up quickly, spent a couple of seconds in front of the couch doing God knew what, and left the trailer as quietly as possible.

Once again, things did not get awkward after that. And Paul was so very grateful for that, because no matter what he did, he couldn't help wondering when the hunter was going to fall asleep on him again. If he was honest with himself, he knew that it was most likely never going to happen, but the hope still lingered in a small corner of his mind. Now that he had seen the grumpy hunter peacefully asleep, soft breath tickling his skin and short strands of hair covering his face, there was no going back for him. He already was in love before, but now…

Paul felt like life was mocking him lately. Falling in love with a straight (?) man was hard enough, but then of course he had to be tested and to endure some kind of test. Which he failed, by the way. Because if he had to stay still and not look at Daryl while he slept, imagining what it would be like to kiss his soft pouty lips and running his hand in the hunter's hair, well… he had spectacularly failed. But then again, who could blame him?

The third time it happened was the worst and the best at the same time.

Because of course Daryl had to fall asleep wearing nothing but his pants, hanging very dangerously low on his kissable hips and looking like a very desirable demi-god, right in the middle of Paul's bed. Paul was reading -he read a lot, okay, it helped him deal with his feelings and he had a lot of them lately- when it happened, again. Suddenly, it was dark in the living room and he got up to fetch his pocket lamp he usually left in his bedside table. Kal had found several batteries during his last run, and now that they had rebuilt the Hilltop and found a way to create their own electricity, they could use batteries and recharge them at their will. This was why, for once, Paul was indulging himself and used it to read some more. He loved to relax with a good book before going to bed, and that was his plan for the night.

That was, until he looked up and saw the man soundly asleep on his bed.

Daryl was laying on his back, his head turned to the side which exposed the long column of his throat. His strong torso was raising up and down with his breath, letting out a soft snoring sound that went straight to Paul's heart and clenched it pleasantly. Creeping a little bit closer, it was then that Paul noticed the little moon shaped scars under each of the hunter's pecs, and a soft sound of surprise almost escaped him.

He knew these scars too well.

Before the outbreak, Paul used to be a gay rights activist. He went to pride, helped associations created for homeless lgbt kids, even used to bring home a few of them when he could. He had a steady job as a martial arts teacher, and he wanted to specialise in lgbt friendly classes one day. So yes, he knew these scars, and what they meant. Before the outbreak, his best friend was a transgender girl he had befriended during one of his first ever pride, and she had patiently taught him a lot about being trans and gender in general.

Seeing these scars on Daryl's body, however, did not surprise him as much as he thought it would. Daryl was… well, Daryl was Daryl. He was covered in scars, all over; only these ones had been something he desired, wanted, longed for. He was a strong, beautiful man that deserved everything the world had to offer but still believed that he was worth nothing, ready to sacrifice his life in a heartbeat for his family and friends. And Paul was so madly in love with the fool it hurt.

The ninja didn't realise at first that he was now standing next to the bed, his knees pushing against the soft mattress and Daryl's gorgeous body laid right in front of his eyes. For a couple of seconds, he hesitated, not sure if he could invade the other man's privacy like this. His fingers twitched, dying to touch the slightly swollen pink mark that had allowed Daryl to be who he truly was, and he bit his bottom lip with force. Daryl was far from careless, and if he had fallen asleep without hiding his body from Paul's curious eyes, it surely wasn't by mistake.

The bed dipped under Paul's weight when he sat down next to Daryl, careful not to wake the sleepy head. Softly, almost with hesitation, the younger man allowed himself to touch him. He knew he shouldn't, especially since Daryl was not awake yet, but he couldn't help but push back one of Daryl's strands of hair behind his ear, framing his perfect face. Immediately and without much surprise from the younger man, the hunter gasped, opening his eyes with a jolt.

Said baby blue eyes focused on Paul, and for a while the younger man couldn't read the hunter thoughtful expression. Daryl was a hard man to read, and while Paul was good at seeing through human expressions, Daryl's had always been one big mystery. Finally, when Daryl seemed to realise what was happening and where he was, he sat up suddenly and bit his lip nervously. Paul didn't miss the way he fought the urge to bite the skin off his fingers, nor did he miss the way his cheeks grew dark pink. Which Paul found adorable, by the way.

"I didn't want to disturb your sleep," said Paul, breaking the heavy silence between them.

They both were very aware of Daryl's scars between them, but neither mentioned them. Instead, the younger man tried to distract him from his obvious discomfort.

"I'm gonna make dinner soon," whispered the ninja again with a tender smile, resisting the urge to run his fingers through Daryl's hair. "Just so you know. I'm gonna cook the rabbit you hunted yesterday, and you better have some of it for once."

The hunter had the tendency to pass his food around to everyone, thinking no one ever noticed. He often distracted Judith and Carl enough to slip them a little more rabbit or deer onto their plates, under Paul's watchful eyes. What the hunter didn't know, however, was that Paul, too, distracted him enough to slip some of his own food onto Daryl's plate. Because he was selfless, yes, but he also was very in love and a little bit sappy. And Daryl needed to eat, too, no matter what he believed or grumbled when he was (very rarely) caught giving his food to Judith.

Which, now that Paul thought about it, was probably why the little girl had gained so much weight recently. She was a very healthy little girl, thanks to her uncle Daryl and her watchful parents. Mind you, Rick and Michonne were the worst when it came to her and her well being. She already had her temper by her own, living in a freaking zombie apocalypse would do that to a child, but when her parents were around? That girl could rule an entire kingdom better than Ezekiel himself. But she was almost six now, and she still had her chubby cheeks and round little belly, which often made Paul laugh fondly when he saw her walking around sucking on candies that Daryl fetched for her. There was nothing to worry about, especially for a girl her age, but Daryl was incorrigible.

"Pff. Ya better cook that damn rabbit well, Rovia," Daryl said finally, his cheeks looking a little less pink now. "I didn't spend two hours hunting it for you to ruin it once it's dead."

Paul snorted.

"Well, I never had any complaints."

"That's because people's standards are a little low now with this whole shitshow. But trust me, your cooking sucks."

This time, the ninja laughed out loud. He got up from the bed to walk to the kitchen, shaking his head with fondness.

"Oh, Daryl Dixon, you're breaking my heart."

"You'll live," teased the other man with a soft smile, not moving from his spot on the bed.

Which, by Paul's standards, was a win. But of course he couldn't resist teasing the man a little longer.

"Oh, and by the way?" he said, looking from above his shoulder to a very relaxed Daryl. "You know you don't have to expose your sexy body like that around me, you already have my heart."

This time, Daryl turned bright red.

They didn't mention the scars, ever again. Not that they mentioned them in the first place. Instead, it was like Daryl had taken down a barrier that had been holding him back for months, and that Paul hadn't realised was there. He was less careful around him after that, more touchy and laughed out loud at his sex jokes when he used to turn red and call him a prick before. Paul was discovering a whole new side of Daryl Dixon, and he loved him even more because of that. Was it even possible at this point?

Yes, he was screwed.

So it was (almost) not a surprise when it happened a fourth time.

What was a surprise though, was how it happened. Once again, they were together in the trailer doing absolutely nothing (it felt so good to be carefree sometimes), both seated on the couch side by side. One minute they were talking about how Judith had grown and how Rick and Michonne were going to have troubles keeping people away from her in a handful of years, and the next Daryl was pushing Paul against the back of the couch to lay his head on his legs, and closed his eyes. Which was fine by Paul. But still, a little surprising.

When it happened for the seventh time, Daryl -lying on his side next to Paul on the bed, his legs entwined with the younger man's- looked up at him with an annoyed scowl and rocked his world.

"So, yer gonna kiss me anytime or what?"

So Paul did. Because who was he to refuse such a request?

By the hundredth time it happened, Paul awoke with a gasp, body pinned by Daryl's huge one against the bed.

"Wait a minute," he whispered, stroking his boyfriend's hair softly when the hunter grumbled something that sounded like 'stop moving you asshat'; "were you flirting with me, all this time that you've been falling asleep on me like a damn cat?"

Daryl's response (or his non response, because the hunter just tightened a little bit more his grip on Paul's body) only confirmed his theory, and the ninja couldn't help but laugh at loud in the vast trailer.

"I'm dating an idiot," he simply whispered, kissing the side of Daryl's heated face.

They fell back asleep together, body touching and heart warmed up by the other's presence, like it should have been from the start.


End file.
